


Bad Company

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Castiel (Supernatural), Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Promptober, M/M, Promptober, beach bum Dean, written at the beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: Written for Destiel Promptober! I’ve always wanted to write a coffee shop AU. This one takes place at an oceanfront café just down the boardwalk, where Dean frequents under a different alias every day.





	Bad Company

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr! deans-jiggly-pudding

“Are you going to give me your real name this time?”

 

“And give away the big secret?” the mysterious man teased, a freckled smile making his green eyes sparkle even more. 

 

“Fine. Will it be your usual today, ‘Obi Wan’?” Cas digressed with a slight eye roll and the threat of a half smile creeping across his face. 

 

“You betcha, Cas!” The man winked and stuffed a five dollar bill into his barista’s apron pocket. “Buy yourself something nice.”

 

Cas blinked at his pocket, a jolt of tension striking through his body at the touch. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like without the burden of three layers of clothing. 

 

Every day was the same — except for the customer’s name — and every day, Cas came closer and closer to making a move. Owning a business on the boardwalk wasn’t easy, especially a coffee shop three blocks from Starbucks. Tourists and most locals alike glossed right over him, but not the man with the green eyes and ridiculous tips. Yet every day, he made his rounds from jogging along the seaside in nothing but tennis shoes and board shorts and tipped him the same amount and in the same pocket. The sign said “shirt and shoes required” but not once did Cas give him grief. He was grateful for the business… and the eye candy. 

 

Over the past few months, the names ranged from movie characters to popular singers. Cas had written “Godzilla”, “Clark Gable”, and “Phil Collins” all in the span of a week, with a few more he had forgotten on account of how lost he had gotten in his mystery man’s eyes. 

 

But not this time. Today, he would claim victory over his general awkwardness and fear of rejection. He had thought long and hard about the consequences of being turned down. Would his regular customer ever return? Would he change his order to something cheaper? Cas had made the decision that he was worth the risk. 

 

“I’m going to a concert this Friday,” Cas stated pointedly as he handed over the iced vanilla cinnamon coffee. 

 

“Awesome,” the man replied just as the door swung open and another regular came in. Dean noticed Cas’ demeanor change when he recognized the woman, like he was disappointed at the interruption. Or maybe he was… slightly annoyed?

 

Cas let out a silent sigh. “I’ll uh,” he cleared his throat, hoping the man would stay until the woman completed her order. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“You know what I want, handsome,” the blonde flirted, leaning over the counter with a grin. 

 

Ignoring the double entendre, Cas coughed and took her money with a smile borne of forced politeness. “Thank you Jo, it’ll be right up.” Although he avoided eye contact with the previous customer waiting patiently, he could feel his curious stare. 

 

“I’ll take your number, too,” she shot in, noticing eyes on the two of them. 

 

“Maybe another time,” Cas replied robotically. Nearly tripping on spilled creamer, he stumbled to the counter and put a lid on her dark roast. 

 

“Fine,” she shrugged, taking her cup. “I’ll try again next week.”

 

Able to breathe easy again, Cas turned to face the eerily motionless man in his periphery. Although he was glad it was plain that he wasn’t the only one made uncomfortable by her advances, it caused him to question his own intentions. Will he come across as unwelcome, too?

 

“You alright?” Mr. Green Eyes broke the silence with a swallow. “You uh, took a fall there.”

 

“Oh,” Cas recalled. Almost landing on his face was the most comfortable part of the last three minutes, so it hadn’t really phased him. “Thank you for waiting. I was going to tell you —”

 

“You’re going to a concert,” he completed, smiling this time. “With all that tip money, I bet?”

 

Cas blushed and looked down. “Bad Company.”

 

“No way. I love them!”

 

“I know,” Cas acknowledged, making eye contact once again. “You’ve given me the names of all the members at some point, so I figured you were a fan.”

 

Something glistened behind the man’s eyes, and his freckles stood out even more, if that was possible, as his cheeks reddened. “What?”

 

“I bought two tickets,” Cas explained slowly, cocking his head to the side as he carefully gauged interest. “It’s going to be at the amphitheatre on the boardwalk. Front and center. I um… I actually don’t know very much about th —”

 

“Cas?” 

 

Torn out of his rambling monologue, he looked up to see that beautiful mystery man gazing at him with hope and wonder. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn his eyes had dropped down to his mouth for a split second. Cas shook away the burning desire coiling in his gut and refocused. 

 

“I was hoping you’d go with me.”

 

Once again, the man went deathly still for a moment, and Cas was tempted to panic. But then his eyes brightened, a smile tugging at his face, and he began to nod. 

 

“I’d love to,” he said quietly. 

 

Cas let out a relieved breath, but he wasn’t done yet. 

 

“Alright, but only if you tell me your name. Your  _ real _ name.”

 

Leaning his freckled arms on the counter, the man tilted his head and tried his luck at one more hurdle. “I’m actually an FBI agent, that’s why I’ve never given my real —”

 

“Liar,” Cas interrupted while grabbing the now empty cup from across the counter. 

 

“What are you doing now?” came a lament over the absence of his blessed cup. 

 

“Refilling your coffee, you ass,” he retorted, heading to the coffee maker. To his relief, he got a laugh instead of a lecture on how to speak to customers. When Cas turned back around to hand over the refill, the gorgeous man in board shorts was writing something down on his napkin. “What’s that?”

 

“My number, you ass,” he replied teasingly. “You know, so you can let me know when you’re picking me up. And stuff.”

 

“And stuff,” came Cas’ distracted reply, thumbing the napkin fondly and running the number over and over in his mind. 

 

His guest smirked and turned to leave. He paused by the “shirt and shoes required” sign by the door, a wave of pride washing over him for being the one to earn the handsome business man’s number. 

 

“Dean,” he said, and Cas’ eyes lit up. “My name is Dean.”

 

Cas smiled modestly and looked down at the number, then back up, a huff of gratification swelling in his chest.

 

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
